Explosive
by Ed's Tomato
Summary: A sequal to Obsession.  Toad's story continues.
1. Chapter 1

--I don't own anything Toad or Marvel related. Obviously. I'm certainly not making any money off them. This story will eventually contain some adult themes. You have been warned. This is a stand alone sequal to Obsession, so if you haven't read it you might give it a look, but you don't need to really to get this one. S'all good. Enjoy. Review if you don't mind. :-).

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"Get you another one honey?" The Blonde bartender asked him, reaching to lean across the counter and snag his empty glass, breasts hitting the edge of the wood and jiggling slightly.

Mort smirked beneath his hood, fairly certain the enticing act was just a ploy to get better tips. Not that it wasn't working. He nodded at her and held up one finger, only partially gloved, but the light in here was bad and he was confident she wouldn't be able to make out the odd skin tone.

It only took her another moment to pour him a generous helping of whiskey and coke. The club wasn't busy tonight. Only one girl was on stage, shimmying down a pole in platform heels, her black hair tied up in pigtails that went with the loosely configured schoolgirl lingerie. Mort was more attracted to the bartender.

She was well built, generous up top, with curvy hips and an attractive ass. Toned arms and belly, short blonde hair and a mischievous twinkle in her eye. A band tattooed around her upper left arm peaked his interest as well. Definitely more interesting than the dancer.

After going to check on the only other two customers at the bar, a couple of college guys that looked pretty plowed already, the bartender returned to him and rested her elbows on the counter. She was leaned over, her back arched slightly; looking far more flirtatious than Mort knew she'd be if she got a good look under the hood. Still, he wasn't adverse to the company. It'd been more than six months since he and Ororo had called it quits and there hadn't been a long line of female companionship waiting after her.

"So what've you got going on tonight?" She asked him, absently reaching to pour herself what looked like vodka and cranberry juice, sipping at it slowly through one of the tiny red stirring straws as she spoke to him.

"Not much," He answered with a shrug of muscular shoulders beneath the heavy jacket, "See where th'evening takes me."

She smirked at the reply and stirred her drink, eyes downcast and thoughtful. They were hazel, her eyes. He'd thought they were brown to begin with, but from this angle he could see they were lighter than that.

"What about you, love?" He continued, seeing that she seemed to want to spark a conversation.

"I'm here 'till two and then…" she shrugged, "Your accent's cute, where're you from?"

"York, England, originally, but I haven't been back in a long time," he answered honestly, "What about you?"

"Roanoke, Virginia. It's every bit as dull as it sounds." She paused wiping her hands on her jeans behind the counter and then reaching across the bar to offer to shake, "I'm Tabitha. Tabby to my friends."

Mort grinned under the hood and didn't hesitate to reach for her hand, giving it a firm squeeze and answering, "Mort. It's nice t'meet you Tabby."

Her attention was called away, shortly thereafter. A party of foreign businessmen came in wanting entertainment and no one could figure out their drink orders. Mort watched her as she smirked and rolled her eyes and smacked the hand of a guy who tried to get too friendly. She was something, all right. He'd long since finished his drink and was considering the merits of going out on a limb to ask her out. Better if he knew how she felt about mutants, but he supposed he'd find out as soon as she saw him in the light.

He'd never given much thought to dating a normal before. It wouldn't have been tolerated while he was in the Brotherhood, and more than that, he didn't figure any of them would be receptive to his particular brand of charm. Still, since Ororo his views on women had changed considerably. He drummed his fingers lightly on the bar getting Tabitha's attention, who shot him an apologetic glance.

He glanced at his watch every few minutes and then back up to Tabitha and one of the strippers arguing with one of the men who knew bits of broken English. Mort snorted and got to his feet. Oh well, maybe she'd be around the next time he came in. He headed for the door, pulling his heavy coat tighter around his body, already anticipating the biting chill outside.

"Hey," A hand on his elbow caught him just before he pushed open the door. He glanced up to see Tabitha, flushed slightly, noticeable even in the bad light, pressing a scrap of paper into his hand, "Call me tonight. If y'wanna."

"Definitely," he agreed, glancing down at the hastily jotted phone number she'd given him. She squeezed his arm briefly and then had to dart back to where the poor stripper was looking very overwhelmed with the translation issues. You'd think that naked women could bridge the communications gap, but apparently not.

Mort headed home, a not so shitty motel room. He hadn't quite got the hang of any sort of lease yet and just paid week to week at this place, but it was all right. Maid service every so often. A mini fridge with drinks if he wanted them. He took a quick shower, styling his hair expertly when he got out and sat at the edge of his bed fidgeting and watching the clock.

He wasn't sure what to suggest that they do. He raked memories of his time with Ororo, trying to recall what they'd spent their time doing. Fucking, pretty much. Yeah, more often than not if they were both happy they were naked. He frowned, deciding that probably wouldn't cut it with a woman he'd just met. He could take her drinking, but she worked at a bar. He could take her out to eat, but the only thing open this time of night was a shitty diner that was too brightly lit for his taste. He supposed he could bring her back here, just to hang out, but she might think he was trying something. Finally, he decided he'd leave the decision-making up to her and reached over to pick up his discarded cell phone. She should be off by now.

"Hey, is this Mort?" She answered the line. Mort smirked.

"Yeah, how's it goin'?" he asked lamely, fingering a package of cigarette's in his lap.

"I'm good, finally got those assholes out of here." She paused, "Did you want to do something?"

"Yeah, 'course. What'd you have in mind?"

"You wanna come over to my place? I've got beer and pay per view," She suggested, "I'm not much in the mood to go out, if you don't mind."

Toad grinned, "Nah, sounds fine to me. I'm not all that social anyway."

"Cool, just meet me outside the club in…can you make it in like fifteen minutes?"

"Yeah, no problem. I don't live that far."

"See you then."

"Bye."

Lighting a cigarette after locking his front door, Mort hurried down the stairs, taking them a flight at a time and thinking about his date. Her place. He wondered briefly if she was foolish or easy or if she really thought she could handle herself. Inviting a guy over she didn't know didn't seem like the smartest plan, but who knew. She looked strong enough and maybe she had a baseball bat or something in case guys got fresh. Or maybe he was just a special lucky bastard.

She was already standing outside under soft lamplight when he reached the club, hugging herself and shifting back and forth to stay warm. Mort jogged the last few feet so she wouldn't be kept waiting and greeted her.

"Hey, been waitin' long?"

"Just a minute," She promised with a shake of her head, reaching for his partially gloved hand, "My apartment's only a few blocks. Fuck it's freezing."

Mort nodded wordlessly, tightening his grip on her hand to warm it, and hurrying along beside her. He watched her breath cloud and cling to the air as they walked, hazel eyes fixed on their destination. She licked her lips every so often to wet them. She probably wasn't even aware she was doing it, but it was sexy. His gold eyes followed the tip of her tongue as it swept across her lower lip once more before he broke the silence.

"You always bring guys home you don't know?"

She smirked, proving that she wasn't offended and gave him a coy little smile.

"I've got a good sense about people. And I can handle myself. Why? You trying to tell me you're a dangerous man?"

"Sure," he agreed, "But you're alright."

"Oh yeah?" She teased, "I'm all special because I charged you single for doubles?"

"Hey a bloke's gotta drink, it's the little things in life that make the difference."

She grinned and punched in a code to her apartment building, shoving open the door when it threatened to stick and heading for the staircase. He hung back just a little to watch her hips sway as she walked and to give her the opportunity to lead since he didn't know their destination. She cast a glance back to make sure he was still there and then continued on to the third floor and her apartment. C 19.

"Beer's in the fridge," she told him, heading toward the bedroom as he shut the door behind him, "I'll just be a sec."

Mort gave the place the once over. Not especially tidy, but it wasn't a sty. Worn comfortable looking sofa faced a big screen television. A couple of cheap wooden TV trays set up like end tables, a pack of cigarette's discarded beside her telephone. Good, she smoked. The décor was sparing and consisted of a row of interestingly shapes liquor bottles across the back counter in the kitchen and a big poster of Pink up near the door to her bedroom. The coffee table looked handmade and badly at that, a couple of two by fours nailed together and an ashtray glued to the middle. He decided he liked it.

After retrieving a couple of beers he went to sit on the sofa and wait for her, popping the top off his and taking a generous swig to try and relax, hood still pulled down far enough that his face was difficult to make out. There was a bump from the bedroom and a "Damn," and then she appeared in the doorway with a sheepish smile wearing a looser fitting tee shirt and more comfortable jeans with holes in the knee.

"Are you not going to take the hood down all night?" She asked, closing the distance between them to drop onto the couch a couple of feet away.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably and reached up to move it back. He supposed he could warn her, but there weren't really words to do that adequately. He frowned, studying her face to gauge her reaction.

She looked a little surprised, certainly, but not horrified. Not disgusted. That was hopeful. He chewed on his lower lip, trying to relax a little and murmured, "Yeah…"

"I figured it was something…the way you kept that up all night, "She told him.

He nodded and fidgeted a little, reaching to take another swig of beer, "So did you want to call it a night then?"

She shook her head, "Shit no, don't be stupid." She moved a little closer to him on the couch and flipped on the television, reaching across him to get her beer.

Mort grinned, settling back onto the sofa. Well that had gone much better than he'd anticipated. He took another drink and helped her pick out a movie. He was inclined to let her watch whatever she wanted but she seemed genuinely interested in his contribution. They settled on one of the newer Die Hards and she shifted over to lean against him when he rested his arm on the back of the couch.

He didn't really pay much attention to the movie, stroking her hair gently with the arm that was around her, getting used to her scent and the soft curve of her shoulder against his side. They were on their second six pack before the movie ended and her leg rested on top of his, her whole body sitting closer.

"Y'drunk?" He asked, knowing he was feeling it himself.

"Yeah a little," she agreed, "Not too drunk though."

A grin split his lips as she nuzzled closer, her hand on his thigh. The touch was electric, already starting to make him hard.

"You?" He got the impression that it wasn't the first time she'd asked and he snickered.

"Yeah…yeah I'm pretty good."

She had a pretty laugh, genuine and not too girly. They barely knew one another but he was already finding little quirks about her that drove him wild. Even more when she turned to face him, her arm behind him and her hand stroking the back of his neck gently. He swallowed, gold eyes flicking toward hers, then down to her lips and back up to her eyes again.

His hesitation only lasted a moment and then he leaned in to kiss her. Lips parted and mouth warm and hungry, and she was just as eager as he was. His hands moved to her hips as he turned to press her back down onto the couch, feeling the smirk of her lips against his own.

"Tabby," he groaned, pleasantly surprised by the way the night was turning out.

"Toa-….Mort," She corrected too late. His gold eyes snapped open wide and he leapt backwards off the couch to stand, staring at the flushed blonde figure.

"Who th'fuck are you?"


	2. Chapter 2

**_Previously on X-Men : "Who th'fuck are you?" _**

_ A/N: Okay sorry, I always wanted to say that. Old school 90's Cartoon. You gotta use the voice...yeah.. Thanks for all the reiews. Sorry I've been so unresponsive with updates for the past ...forever...on everything. I've been working on a picture lately for deviantart that is time consuming. Plus I haven't had any brilliant ideas and felt like writing or anything. Soooorrry. Yes. Tabby is Tabitha Smith aka as Boom Boom, Boomer or my personal favorite of hers, Meltdown. I love Tabs and I am a Tabby/Mort shipper all the way. I'd explain why to anyone who wants to listen._

_Btw, I own nothing Toad, X-Men, Brotherhood or Tabby related. I make no money from it._

_And then: Lather, Rinse, Repeat, Read and Review!_

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"Easy there sailor," Tabitha cautioned him as she slowly climbed off the couch, not putting her back to him for a second. "I've seen you on TV, okay?"

"Bullshit." He answered. They'd never gotten a clear shot of him. He was too paranoid. He was far, far too careful. And the way she looked at him, the ease of their kiss, no this was a fucking set up.

She was biting her lower lip now, plump and blushed pink and seductive. She still thought she had the upper hand. Still thought she could play him. His gold eyes bored into her, searching her face. Had it all been a play?

"It's not bullshit. I saw you on the news and I'm into a little bit of danger."

"I bet you are."

Tabitha leaned one hand on the couch, back arched slightly to push her breasts out. Get his attention. To make him think of sex. And he was, but he wasn't fool enough to be twirled around her little finger that easily. Maybe before Storm. When he'd been a bit more desperate for companionship. Not now.

She moved a little closer when she saw his lips part and his eyes shift lower on her body. She was just inexperienced enough to think she had him too. Pink manicured fingers slid over his shoulder, her body pausing just shy of brushing against him.

It was obvious that she didn't expect his hand stroking the back of her neck to tense and yank her flush against him, or that she might attribute it to rough foreplay if he didn't twist to slam her up against the wall. His expression was cruel as he leaned in to brush his lips against her ear.

"I don't think you know who you're fucking with."

She didn't fight him yet but her whole body tensed, very aware of how rock hard his muscles were and how immovable. Her eyes flicked up to his when he pulled back to search her face. His calloused fingers slid from the back of her neck to run over her jaw and clasp her chin firmly in his grasp.

"I'm not…," She started lamely, but he interrupted with a squeeze of her chin, chastising her.

"My patience is running thin sweets. C'mon, try again. I know you can do better than that."

Her lips parted and he could see the fear in her eyes. He felt this sudden twinge of desire, this shock of a realization that he could probably take her if he wanted. Not that he'd ever take the unwilling. He had to shake off the thought, but it did serve to lower his guard a little. She wasn't just beautiful. He could certainly ignore beauty. No, she was intoxicatingly female.

"They…they sent me to find you."

"Who?" He demanded, irritation evident in his voice.

"The Brotherhood," Dark brown eyes searched his for danger.

That, he hadn't expected. He almost backed up, almost loosened his grip on her. The Brotherhood? He hadn't even thought of them in months, he realized guiltily. He'd stopped giving a damn. What had the Brotherhood done for the world? Created another monster. A drug addict and an alcoholic. He didn't regret his time with them, but he knew he could never go back.

"Why?" He finally asked, mind going over all the possible reasons.

"C'mon, Toad, let me go," She mumbled.

He ignored the request and stroked her cheek gently, "They sent you to seduce me?" He sounded a little amused.

"No, that was…my idea," She murmured. He snorted, squeezing her neck lightly.

"Then why'd they send you?"

"To find out if you'd turned. Why you'd never come back."

"You thought it'd be easiest if I was undressed? My guard was down? Planned to take one for the team did you? Willing to fuck me to get what you wanted?" His voice was cruel.

"Willing to?" Her eyes were alight again, and the fear seemed to diminish a little, "Baby I've wanted a piece of you since I heard you existed. Assassin, martial artist, sexy and strong. Toad." She rolled her tongue as she said his name.

"That so?" His hands slid to either side of her head now, not threatening her directly, "Never heard that one before." He hardly looked convinced. "You just hard up, or you into freaky?"

"I'm way into freaky," She agreed, her hands sliding up his chest to link around his neck. She leaned in, obviously thinking she had the upper hand again as she began to kiss at his neck.

He relaxed just slightly under the ministrations, one hand fingering her hair from where they were braced on either side of her head. His head turned to allow her more access at his throat, shivering when her tongue lapped at his earlobe.

Suddenly his hand clenched in her hair and his head snapped up to look her in the eyes.

"I don't like being played, Princess."

She swallowed hard, staring at him, "I'm not playing you."

Toad could hardly believe her. He cursed himself for falling so easily for her tricks. Every shift of her hair, every rise of her breasts had lured him in. She'd been bait from the beginning. They'd found out where he was somehow and sent her, knowing his affinity for a drink. Thinking he'd still be desperate enough to totally fall.

He shook his head and let her go, moving back away from her, "I haven't turned. I'm just not a soldier anymore. I got smarter."

It occurred to him this might not be the answer they wanted and maybe his life would be forfeit. So be it. Let them send Sabretooth after him. If his onetime friend would really gut him over this then so be it.

His attention was no longer on the girl, his mind going over possible problems and solutions. He could leave town. Probably should have all along. Ororo would help him if he needed it. Money or whatever. No, it'd be fine.

He didn't notice the glow coming off the girl behind him or register her words until it was too late.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Instincts took over in time for him to throw himself to the right as an explosion detonated right at the spot he'd been. He spun in midair, his tongue snapping out to grab for her weapon only to realize it was from her hands. Mutant made bombs, and she seemed to be able to generate as many as she wanted judging by the handful of glowing orbs.

"I underestimated you," He was smiling, looking highly amused. Pleased even, that the blonde Hottie had turned out to be more than vapid.

"Yeah," She agreed, "People do that." She looked just as amused, itching for a good fight. Knees bent and hands glowing. She waited for him to fall into his own crouch. Oh yeah. This was going to be fun.

She was fast, he had to give her that, and she was obviously enjoying herself. He'd gotten in some good shots but he wasn't really trying to kill her yet. She'd singed him but no direct detonations. He wondered if she was going easy on him too.

A bomb went off right where his head had been a moment before and he plowed, shoulder first, into her ribcage, driving her into the wall. She let out a loud 'oof' and a laugh and he crouched there over her smirking.

"That was fun," He admitted, "More fun than I've had in a long time. You're not gonna make me kill you are you?"

She shrugged, giggling, reaching up to smooth her hair back. "I don't get you."

"Which part?" He made no move to let her up off the ground, but didn't seem to be fighting anymore.

"How could you leave the Brotherhood?" She seemed genuinely concerned about it.

"I went t'prison for awhile. Changes a man's perspective. Plus I sobered a bit, that helped too." He shrugged; rubbing at a bruise he'd given her shoulder gently.

"But there are still mutants out there that need your help," She argued, wearing some of that young passion he'd known once.

"I was doing more harm than good, and you'll be too, working for Magneto."

She snorted, rolling her eyes and leaning back to cross her arms over her chest. It was her turn to look unconvinced. He wasn't surprised. Young, idealistic and full of fire. It was no wonder she took to the Brotherhood so well. It was a pity really. She'd be lucky if she got out alive as he had.

He reached to pull her to her feet, cupping her cheek with a sense of fond pity. She licked her lips and studied his face.

"So you're not going to kill me?" Her expression was almost pouting, and he shook his head.

"No, love, go on back to your Boss, lick at his heels and tell him what a naughty Toad I've been."

"It was you, y'know," She smirked at him lightly, "You're the reason why I joined in the first place."

"How's a pretty like you even hear about a guy like me?" He asked, moving over to pick up what was left of his beer and take a swig. She got up to go drop down on the couch herself, stretching out and shrugging

"I was in one of the Friends of Humanity research labs you raided about ten years ago."

"Ah," That explained it. He'd rescued the little thing. He settled down on the couch beside her, hand moving for her thigh.

"You carried me out, do you remember?" Tabby scooted over until she was leaning against him, looking up at his face.

"Maybe," He agreed. There'd been more than a few raids, but a small blonde came to mind, clinging to him and refusing to cry. He'd have been about fifteen then. The girl might probably have been nine.

"I only joined to meet you," She pressed.

"And imagine your displeasure when you found I'd left th'organization," He supplied with amusement.

"Uh huh," She slid a leg over his lap to straddle him, and his hands settled on her hips, "So I thought I'd better come talk some sense into you."

_a/n 2: And perhaps I'll update at more regular intervals. Well, we can hope. Thanks for Reading. :-)  
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	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Oh, my poodles, I am so sorry for my absence over the last....year? More maybe? Heh. At any rate, here is another chapter, and I do hope I get around to further updating. If I don't, well, you have my sincerest apologies. Oh, the flightiness of me._

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Chapter 3: _Boom_, and then **Boom**

Sunlight settled in streaks over the naked yellow-green figure, filtered through the slats of cheap plastic blinds. The constant light against his thin eyelid brought him slowly to wakefulness, eliciting a groan of protest. His arm, roped thick with muscle, was wrapped possessively around the shapely figure of the Blonde he'd gone to bed with. At his stirring, she too found herself awake and mumbled something irritable, directed at the brightness of day in general.

Mort smirked at the petulant whine and, adding gasoline to the fire, danced his fingertips across her ribs. Her harpy shriek brought him a cringe and instant regret, but he wouldn't let himself be deterred. Rolling swiftly onto his knees over her, he played her like a fiddle, laughing as the younger woman kicked and spasmed and gasped for breath between unladylike guffaws.

Without a pause to allow her breath, he suddenly braced his palms on the mattress and leaned down to catch her lips. They hummed with lingering giggles that spilled into his mouth and brought a warmth to settle in his belly that hadn't been there many times before. By the time her lips worked hungrily against his, he'd shifted his weight over her and used a hand on the back of one knee to pull her into a easily accessible position. He didn't ask permission, they'd established the night before she took the pill, and in moments he was seated within her and bringing them both to such great heights.

"Gonna make me breakfast?" Toad asked her cockily when they were both glowing with perspiration and a shiver with the post coital endorphins. He drew lazy circles with one finger on the back of her thigh, not making any attempt to withdraw from where he was still comfortably nestled. He didn't doubt that she might very well be the death of him one day, but he found himself swelling with an odd sense of affection toward Magneto for sending her.

"Do I look like a girl who cooks?" She challenged him, resting languidly against the pillow and catching her breath. Toad chuckled and pinched her chin just enough to hurt her a little bit, enjoying the expression of discomfort. This was what he'd missed when he'd been with Storm. Sure the first time had quite a bit of bite, but after that...well Ororo was a sweet gel, he'd always have a soft spot, but she just didn't have the feisty personality this girl did. Young, and so damned sure of herself, itching for a fight. For a pretty and a woman, she really did remind him of himself.

Spanking her thigh affectionately, Toad finally abandoned her body, shivering when the recycled current of air swept over a particularly sensitive portion of his anatomy. He let his gaze ravage her while he pulled on the soft black cotton boxers previously discarded, but then ducked out of the room to peruse her refrigerator.

"You want Captain Crunch?" He called, already overfilling a bowl and figuring he could share.

"Check that the milk's not expired," She suggested just before he popped back into the bedroom and made a disgusted face from around the handle of the spoon. He dropped character before she could giggle herself into hysterics and crunched through another significant bite.

"I checked it before I poured."

Breakfast was easy and unforced. They shared bites of cereal, a few hungry kisses and within the span of a half hour, Toad was dressed again and hovering near the door. Facing the reality of their impossible relationship wasn't appealing, but Toad hadn't quite brought himself to leave yet. He took her hand, lacing calloused fingers with hers.

"What're we gonna do, pretty precious?" He asked, leaning in to nuzzle at her cheek. "You feel like defectin'?"

She interrupted her peal of giggles and the nuzzle to scowl at him, "I've been waiting to be Brotherhood my whole life."

How did one contest that? He knew what it was like to need a purpose, to beg for family. Looking at her he wouldn't have pegged that life for her, but what did he know? The world wasn't anything like he'd thought it was when he was young. Wisdom came with age, after all. _And dementia_, he added internally as he thought of Magneto's current state.

"That's it, then." The wave of disappointment wasn't unexpected, but he was faintly pleased to see it mirrored on his lover's face, despite her shrug that followed. Reluctantly, he released her hand and backed out, pulling her front door shut in his wake. The swagger to his step on the way downstairs was severely diminished by the knowledge he wasn't going to get to partake of that particular treat again anytime soon.

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Darkness fell on the city that never slept, the lamplight and garish brightness of store signs bathed the streets in false day. It wasn't unusual for a woman to run desperate through the seedy streets, dodging winos and dealers or others that might do her harm. Nor, was it unusual for the denizens of this city to look the other way, it had become the unofficial motto. There were, however, few women who ran to a man like Toad for protection.

He heard the thud thud thud of footfalls on the staircase coming for him and lurched off his sofa, dropping a still burning cigarette to smolder on the carpet. Gun in hand, he opened the door, prepared to defend himself from the repercussions of fucking the Blonde kitten. The last thing he expected was that self same figure to thrust herself into his arms, heedless of the firearm and collapse.

"_Shit._"

Blood pattered onto the carpet, sizzling as he pulled her inside and the fluid dribbled down to put out what was left of his cigarette. A glance into the hallway to make sure she wasn't followed and then he'd slammed and locked the door, hefting her more securely into his embrace and making for the sofa. She'd gone suddenly limp upon wrecking into him, head and limbs dragged down by gravity without force of will to keep her aloft.

The wounds were recognizable. As he peeled away layers of clothes matted against seeping open wounds, he mentally searched his cabinets for where he kept the needle and thread. Vic usually gouged deep enough to need stitches and this was obviously no exception. He wondered what in the shit the girl had done to merit this wreckage, and hoped she hadn't called it down upon his head.

A misplaced finger had her suddenly coherent enough to scream as he fumbled to tug away the rest of her clothes.

"Sorry sweetheart, m'sorry," He mumbled, tossing the wretched bundle of clothing to slop in a corner of the apartment, "Where's that brave little shit I fought a week ago?"

Air was sucked in between clenched teeth and shuddered in the back of her throat with every hysterical breath. She didn't unclench long enough to answer, but hazel eyes, glazed with pain and fear, settled on his face, searching for his assessment. Remembering where he'd left his sewing supplies, behind the hydrogen peroxide and ky, he gathered her up again and stumbled with care for the bathroom.

"Alright, pet, we're gonna have a bath and then dip into the stash I've been keepin' for a rainy day," He told her, more to soothe her with the calm timbre of his voice than because he expected her to respond. He kept the water body temperate and carried her in, despite his state of bloody dress. He had to be able to see where to sew her up and she was currently drenched in copious amounts of her own blood.

He knew from experience that it looked worse than it was. The blood was displaced over a large surface area. She'd not gone deathly pale yet, there was a good chance she'd live through this. After splashing away as much blood as he could, he leaned to dig out the sewing kit from his cabinet and kept steady hands to do his work. Despite the fact she sported a couple of intricate tattoos, getting stitches without anesthesia after being brutally ravaged wasn't fun. She performed a full body arch and screamed, but went into shock soon after and he was able to tether together two sides of skin in different spaces all over her body.

She'd stopped shaking by the time he carried her out, ignorant of the puddles he left in his wake. His apartment was successfully trashed at this point; the cleaning woman was going to have kittens. Dropping her on the bed he ducked beneath the mattress a moment to retrieve a tin lunch box with the Thundercats logo he'd gotten at some flea market awhile back when he'd thought Cheetara was especially hot. Inside was the remainder of old vices, not forgotten. The worst of them.

The needle was clean, he'd been a clever enough junkie to avoid that particular stigma. He filled it with careful precision from the vial and tapped out the bubbles before feeding it into the crook of her arm. It was hard not to frown as he gave away freely that which he'd promised himself he wouldn't touch again, but a look at the state she was in had him feeling guilty.

It wasn't often that he played nursemaid and less often that he enjoyed it, but she was beautiful and most certainly in need. A pang of rage at his old family and what they were willing to do their own, enveloped him as he ran his knuckles against her cheek.

"Sleep, Tabby. All'll look right in the morning. Y'safe as houses with me."


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